


City Girl and the Beast

by Princess_Violet



Category: Donkey Kong (Video Games), Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Comedy, F/M, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Violet/pseuds/Princess_Violet
Summary: Pauline is a fashionista trying to make it in New York City when she is captured by a giant, hairy ape.  Only one man is brave enough to save her.  Winner of "best comedy" in the AMKE fan fiction contest!





	City Girl and the Beast

Nothing interesting ever happens to me. I work in an office as an assistant to an assistant and spend my days doing data entry and trying not to spill coffee on my shirt. I am usually only successful at one of those things. 

I’m a New York City girl looking for love. Real original, I know. At least I knew I wasn’t going to find anyone in the podunk town where I grew up. The sign reads “Hamlet of Prycrest, Population 85: The Whey Capital of New York!” If I had stayed there, I probably would have married a Biff-like farmer boy named Amos. I don’t see anything wrong with living on a farm, it’s just not really my style. I was always obsessed with fashion as a kid, so when the opportunity to go to the New York School of Design came up, I grabbed it with both hands.

I dated in college, though it wasn’t easy to find straight guys who shared my interests. The ones who did labeled themselves as “big thinkers,” with egos to match. I got sick of hearing about their projects, and they didn’t often let me get a word in edgewise. 

After college I floated around for awhile, waiting tables here and selling expensive jewelry there. Of course I tried to sell my designs, but I got rejected about a thousand times. I was always told I wasn’t “original” enough, whatever that means. I mean, I poured my heart and soul into my drawings, but somehow they were never good enough. And my love life? Let’s just say I don’t have any dates in the foreseeable future.

Anyway, here I sit. It’s Monday afternoon, and my caffeine buzz has worn off. Thankfully, I’m ducking out early today. I’m meeting with an agent who will hopefully help me break into the fashion world. I’m not really holding my breath on that one, though.

I say goodbye to my boss and take the stairs down to street level. It’s six flights, but I reason that I could use the exercise. I step onto the sidewalk, and a guy in a business suit runs past me, almost knocking me back into the door. 

“Hey, watch it, buddy!” I shout. 

Then I notice more people running in the same direction as the suit. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m sure it’s not the New York Marathon. Suddenly I hear what I can only describe as a grunt from behind me, and before I know what’s what, I’m being held in a vice grip. I look down and realize I’m no longer on my feet, and the sidewalk seems to be moving underneath me.

“What the…” 

I twist around and see the creature’s mouth and chin. I’m tucked under the arm of what appears to be a very large gorilla. I try to wriggle free, but the ape’s grip tightens, and I only manage to get my arms to move.

“Let go of me!” I yell, pounding on its chest. My violent little outburst does not seem to have an effect. 

We’re heading towards a construction site. The building is surrounded by scaffolding, which the gorilla begins to climb. Did I mention I’m afraid of heights? I’m afraid of heights. I switch from pounding on its chest to holding on for dear life. With my eyes closed, I can still feel the wind on my face as we ascend higher and higher. Suddenly I hear a man’s voice.

“Hey!” he calls out. “Get your hands off her!” 

I open one eye and dare to look down. I can make out what I assume is one of the construction workers standing below us. He looks like a splotch of red and blue from where I’m being held. He has some kind of lilting accent--Italian, maybe? Right now I don’t care if he’s a space alien; I just need someone to save me.

“Help!” I scream back to him. 

The construction worker begins to scale the scaffolding after us. Soon the ape and I reach the top of the building, with Mr. Construction Worker not far behind. The gorilla mercifully sets me down on a steel beam, but without my captor’s support, I am even more terrified. I stand, frozen, unable to do anything but watch the scene unfolding before me.

Suddenly the gorilla begins to make a braying sound. It reminds me more of some kind of mule than an ape. When its song fails to scare the man away, it begins jumping up and down, causing the entire structure to shake. I fall on my stomach and wrap my arms around my beam, hoping that today is not my day to see the afterlife. 

I dare to look up when the shaking stops. Beneath me, many of the frames have collapsed and are sticking out at awkward angles. No longer able to climb straight up, the man runs on top of the fallen beams as if they are ramps. This seems to agitate the beast.

A large object whizzes past me and rolls down the beams toward my hero. It’s apparently a barrel. I’m really not sure how a barrel got to the top of the building, but there seem to be several more conveniently stacked next to the gorilla. 

“Look out!” I shout.

The man takes a death-defying leap over the barrel, and as soon as he does another one zooms toward him. He leaps a few more times, but I can tell he’s getting tired. I begin to wonder how much he has left in him when he grabs a hammer that someone left on the site. He uses the tool to smash through the barrels and soon reaches the top of the building.

The gorilla makes that braying sound again, and I can tell it’s angry. It jumps on the scaffolding again and again, making everything shudder. I’m going to die, I just know it. What do I have to show for my life? My tombstone will probably read “Here Lies Pauline, the most boring woman in New York City.” Well, that’s a distinction at least. The man’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Grab my hand!” 

I shake my head. Grabbing his hand would mean that I would have to leave my prone position, wrapped like a snake around this girder. 

“Come on! It’s going to be okay, just come with me!”

I don’t believe him, but what choice do I have? I can’t stay here forever, not without plunging to my death. I decide to do as he says, and we run like hell down the makeshift ramps until we reach the sidewalk. I need to catch my breath, but my savior pulls me for two more blocks. In the distance, I can see the scaffolding collapse and the building with it. I suddenly feel a pang of regret. 

“Do you think Donkey Kong will be alright?” I ask. 

“Donkey--who?” he pants. “Christ, you named that thing?!” 

I blush. “Yeah, well, I’m kind of an animal person.”

The man shakes his head. I notice that he is a bit shorter than me and sporting a very unusual mustache. He is wearing overalls, a red shirt, and a cap with a red “M” on a white background. These are odd choices, to be sure, but the outfit combined with his slight paunch makes him kind of cute. I think he notices me checking him out because he shakes his head again. 

“Sorry,” I say. Then I realize I haven’t introduced myself yet. “I’m Pauline.” I hold out my hand.

“Mario,” he replies, shaking my hand. His grip is firm, but not too firm. Perfect. 

“I, uh, thank you for saving me. Sorry about your building.”

“My building? Oh, you must have thought I was working there. No, I’m a plumber by trade. I just happened to be there when- Donkey Kong was it?- captured you.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

“Not a problem.”

I feel like I owe him something, or maybe I just want to get to know him a little better. It’s not every day you get rescued by a cute Italian plumber. I’m not usually one to make the first move, but I decide to make an exception in this case.

“Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?” 

“Now?”

“I’m free, and there’s most likely a cafe around the corner. There usually is in this city.” 

I suddenly feel stupid. I doubt Mario even finds me the least bit attractive, with my lanky figure and mousy brown hair. It’s probably sticking up in weird places, as it tends to do when windswept, and I’m a little more than windswept. I look down and realize my fuschia skirt has been ripped to shreds. Great. 

“I’m game,” Mario says. 

Did he just say yes? He just said yes! I do a mental happy dance and smile at him. Mario holds out his hand, and I take it. I feel like this could really be the start of something, and even if it isn’t, at least something interesting happened today.


End file.
